


If it happened during spin the bottle

by jestbee



Series: If it happened now [2]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: AU, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Spin the Bottle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-11 04:53:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13516971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jestbee/pseuds/jestbee
Summary: Phil can’t stop thinking about that game of spin the bottle. Dan’s already forgotten.





	If it happened during spin the bottle

**Author's Note:**

> Just little things I'm doing over on [Tumblr](http://jestbee.tumblr.com) to explore various cliché, cute, and fluffy ways they could get together now or in recent years. (as opposed to in 2009 like I really believe they did). Come say hi!

As far as kisses go, it’s barely anything at all. A few too many eyes watching, head swirling with too much champagne, and the empty bottle pointed right at him, his best friend on the other side of it.

There’s a chorus of ‘wahaaaay’ followed by a gasp of disbelief as Dan leans across the circle and Phil suspects he joins in.

No one thought they’d actually do it. Least of all Phil.

The morning after he’s still thinking about it. His lips tingle where Dan had pressed his against them for the briefest moment then looked back at the crowd with a ‘that’s all you get perverts’ and shrugged it off. The game had moved on. Phil had not.

It’s still there a few days later. A patch of his skin is worn raw, chapped where he keeps running his tongue over his bottom lip but also sore somewhere deep inside him. Like an itch he’ll never be able to scratch.

“That spin the bottle game was crazy huh?” He says, proud of the steady, even voice that barely belongs to him.

“Huh?” Dan says, his head dipped over a laptop. Distracted. “What game?”

‘Never mind.“

And honestly, it’s probably for the best.

He tries to stop licking his lips, and stop his mind wandering back to that moment over and over but it’s no use. It’s left a mark somehow, even if it wasn’t something he’d ever have thought about before. They’ve made it this far without kissing, there’s really no reason they need to do it at all. Phil isn’t as good at forgetting it as he’d like to be.

He tries again a week and a half later. Just to be sure.

“You really don’t remember the spin the bottle thing?”

This time Dan is editing and Phil has wandered in to the living room, over to that nook where the editing computer is. He doesn’t sit, just sort of hovers near Dan’s elbow.

“Hm?”

“Because I can’t  _stop_  thinking about it.”

In case there was any room for doubt about how crazy Phil is at this point, he’s probably just solidified it.

Dan doesn’t respond straight away, he does turn his head and let his eyes settle somewhere around Phil’s left ear but it’s slightly off so he can’t be sure Dan even intends it. “Never mind,” he scrambles, “it doesn’t matter.”

Over the next few says, he tries to make that true.

It doesn’t matter, not really. But he does catch Dan looking at him like he’s crazy, brown eyes boreing holes into his temple as they sit on the couch, or when they turn off the camera. Like he wants to say something, like he’s always on the edge of telling Phil how crazy he is, but backs off at the last second.

It can’t last forever.

They’re heading out again. Somewhere along the line they became people that go outside and however much Phil is still waiting for Dan to have a reaction to that, he doesn’t.

“No spin the bottle this time okay mate?”

Dan slaps him on the space between his shoulder blades and Phil feels the heat of it all the way down his spine.

He must remember after all. 

There are no games. Every empty bottle gets put into the plastic recycling box in the kitchen at their friend’s house and Phil doesn’t even have the urge to fish one out. 

Some time after midnight he does catch Dan staring at the box though. 

“I wasn’t thinking about it,” he says. 

They’re alone, thank god, because wouldn’t know how to field that with an audience. 

“I didn’t say you were.” 

“No Phil…” 

He eyes the glass in Dan’s hand and wonders how many he’s already had. A few, going by the way he stretches Phil’s name out over a few syllables that aren’t usually there. 

“I mean I wasn’t… not at all… until you said you couldn’t stop thinking about it.” 

“Oh.”

“And I’m still not thinking about it,” Dan says, not taking his eyes off the empty bottles. Possibly out of self preservation, or maybe he’s just too drunk to focus on anything else. 

“Good,” Phil says, “I’m not–” 

“But I can’t stop thinking about  _you_  thinking about it.” 

Phil swallows and looks at the bottles as well. They’re precariously balanced all on top of each other, like one faint breeze would send them all tumbling. 

“Are you still thinking about it?” Dan asks. 

Phil almost rushes to deny it. It would be so simple to. Just shake his head, tell him no. Lie. 

“I’m always thinking about it,” he says instead.

“Yeah,” Dan says, “me too.” 

The next day they wake up on their friends floor and Phil lets out a groan and tries to unwind the knot in his back and grumbles about being far too old for this sort of nonsense. Dan agrees, but he’s a bit quieter about it because he looks like even the raising on his own voice would make his head hurt. 

They don’t get the underground home even though it costs far too much for the taxi. But he doesn’t complain when in the back seat, his face turned away from the bright of the sun through the window, Dan drops his head to Phil’s shoulder. They don’t say anything, but they don’t need to. 

At home they take it in turns to shower and slip into comfortable pyjamas, silently agreeing that today will be a write off. They lean back into their sofa, paracetamol and water by their sides, Phil pulling the blanket off the back cushions, and it could almost be cosy if it weren’t for the thumping at their temples. 

“Do you–”

“Shh,” Dan says, batting at Phil’s shoulder but landing somewhere around his collarbone with closed eyes. He leans forward, resting his forehead over the rise of Phil’s ribcage, Phil lifts his arm automatically so Dan can burrow in.

It’s quiet then. Dan’s breathing evening out against his t-shirt, warm and humid through the cotton. Dan throws his arm up over Phil’s hip at one point and Phil let’s himself enjoy it. He spreads his hand on the small of Dan’s back, so that any onlookers could call this  _cuddling_  if they wanted to. He still thinks about it.

A few days later and he hasn’t had an opportunity to bring it up. He thinks Dan might be avoiding him, but he could be reading too much in to it.

That is, until all hell breaks loose. 

“That’s it!”

Dan comes up the stairs, his feet landing on each step with a thunderous stamp that makes the metal framework around them jingle in a way that is quite unsettling. 

“Huh?” 

Phil runs through his movements since waking up, wondering if he left a cupboard open or ate something he wasn’t supposed to, but he doesn’t come up with anything. 

“I’ve had it,” Dan says, flopping down on the couch next to him, sending the cushions rippling where Phil has his legs tucked underneath him.

Dan’s long legs stretch out over the wooden floor, black socks sliding his toes under the fluffy footstool. 

“Um, sorry?” Phil tries, “What did I do, exactly?” 

Dan sighs rolling his head where it’s thrown onto the back of the couch so that he can glare at Phil. 

“You with the putting of stupid ideas in to my head.”

Dan runs a hand through the front of his hair, fluffing up his curls ridiculously and Phil chuckles. 

“Alright...”

“I mean it Phil, I wasn’t thinking about it at all. And then you had to go and--” he cuts himself off, running both of his hands down the front of his face. “This is the most stressful moment of my entire life.” 

“You’re so dramatic.” 

Dan rolls his eyes and looks at him again. “Right.” 

He turns then, a flurry of too-long limbs all bending and rearranging until he is knelt on the sofa. He’s too tall for the small space he’s crammed himself in to and Phil doesn’t know whether he should try to angle himself back or stay still. 

“I’m gunna...” 

Dan leans forward, doesn’t really give Phil must time to think at all before he kisses him again. 

As far as kisses go, it’s pretty spectacular. Dan takes his time, a large hand cupped around Phil’s cheek. It lingers. Slow and deep and nothing like the first one except for the way Phil’s stomach flips over and he feels a little light headed. This time he has nothing like alcohol to blame it on. 

“What--?” Phil says as they part. 

“Fuck.” 

Phil blinks. That wasn’t exactly the reaction he’d expected when he’s just been kissed more thoroughly than he ever has in his entire life. 

“Huh?”

“I thought...” Dan says, picking at the hem on the jumper he’s wearing, the soft threads of it gliding through his fingers. “I thought if we did it properly... like, you know, p _roperly_ , it would make it all...” 

He waves his hands in the air between them. 

“All?”

“I don’t know, easier? Better? Back to normal?” 

“Is that what you want?” Phil asks, earnestly. “For things to go back to normal?” 

Dan looks up at him. Phil knows his face, knows it almost as well as he knows his own, better maybe considering you only ever see your face in the mirror. It’s a nice face. Warm. And his eyes aren’t blinking and he’s looking at Phil as hard and as honestly as he ever has. 

“No,” he says, “I don’t.” 

“Okay,” Phil shrugs. “I don’t either.” 

Dan kisses him again, just a little bit, and Phil could get used to that. He hopes he’s allowed to. 

“I wanted to stop thinking about it,” Dan says. 

“Me too,” Phil nods, “so lets stop  _thinking_ and start  _doing.”_

Dan laughs, the warm sound of it filling their living room, and they do just that.


End file.
